the sculptor
by the queen of slurking
Summary: mona makes hanna into a semi-new person. explores why.


**The Sculptor**

_**Please refer to my profile for notes.**_

She's almost done with tenth grade when she decides to fix herself up. This isn't the only idea she has bubbling in her brain, but she decides to take care of the first issue.

It hasn't been all that long since she uncovered a darker side than she realized in Alison, coming across her in a dark wig and fake name, and maybe it's time to push aside the popular girl to make space for a new one.

So she buys a phone and it's amazing how much she can learn when she blends into the dork background, puts her earphones into her ears without music and pretends to thumb through dozens of songs.

It's a daring project and one day she commits her first crime in the name of changing herself. A stealthy break-in, a lipstick message, and she's out. It's exhilarating.

(And not many people know this, but she is superb with computers. Hacking, she taught herself, first by guessing her classmates' email passwords and then building her way up)

0o0o0o0

Her trickery works beautifully, and Alison is so out of it that she doesn't question Mona's appearance, doesn't offer resistance to the motel.

She knows now that her dork disguise works, because she dabs at Alison's face with a washcloth and sends her to sleep, and Alison is ridiculously trusting for a girl who's received anonymous stalker notes.

(As if only pretty, popular girls can be mean)

She's such a dork that Alison trusts her with her darkest secrets, and for once she doesn't mind it because it's all helping her along. Perhaps this is what it means to own something which causes you hurt.

And one room over she delicately twists the key in the lock, making minimal sound and laughs softly. It's the sound of someone who is finally becoming the person she wants to be; the girl who's getting what she has always wanted.

In the morning Alison gives her the best advice she can muster, and it's all falling into place.

Alison drives away, and there's a new slot for a ruler of Rosewood.

0o0o0o0

She's her own project now, and her mother is willing to oblige her only daughter in shiny new makeup and clothes and contacts. So for months they stockpile swatches of colour and fabric, sweep through magazines and stores – _I like this, hate that colour – _and she studies the trends. Stupid as it seems, she buys cosmetics and never thinks on the expectation that they'll make her different, that they'll change her life.

Cuts her hair, throws away the barrettes she doesn't need – there's a new pride in her mother's face. "You're getting so grown up," she murmurs wistfully as she draws her into a hug. They bond over applying liquid liner and the difference between scary amounts of eye shadow and sweet.

Makes PowerPoint presentations, because under the new clothes and shiny hair she's still a good student and she doesn't see why she can't be both pretty and smart.

0o0o0o0

Summer comes to a close and she's pretty, has adjusted to seeing her non-dorky face in the mirror. Still, she keeps an old yearbook photo to remind herself of who she used to be. It's tucked into the edge of the mirror, her eyes staring out at her.

Some days she unfocuses her eyes and imagines the girl in the little picture is looking at her, watching her and approving the changes she makes.

Only here's the problem: she forgot to enlist someone, and so she's a pretty girl without friends, and what popular girl is friendless? She needs someone to be by her side, needs to have a co-ruler because no matter how fabulous she might be she doesn't know the first thing about being top of the social pyramid and needs just that little bit of guidance.

Besides, people still don't notice her as much as they could.

0o0o0o0

Two months.

It's been two months since Alison vanished. Two months of waking early to do hair and makeup, of selecting outfits the night before going out, two months of extra study to prove to her mother that her grades aren't suffering.

Two months of semi-admiring glances, of _do-i-know-you_ acknowledgement, but still none of them have acknowledged who she is or how she looks now.

It's _still_ not enough.

0o0o0o0

She walks down the main street of Rosewood, doesn't trouble herself to acknowledge people. Her mood is tense, she still needs someone to catapult her to the top of the school and most of her yearbook contenders would take too long.

And okay, she doesn't want just anyone. Maybe her new best friend should be a former dork, someone she can make over and sculpt, someone who will be pliant to costumes and grateful for being pulled from obscurity.

_A regular Professor Higgins,_ she thinks to herself as she spots Hanna Marin.

Of Alison's gang, she liked Hanna the most. Spencer was too stuffy for her, Emily too immersed in swimming, and Aria too distant.

Hanna though, was sweet and a little shy. Someone who would have liked to be a queen, maybe, and the best thing is, she's blonde.

0o0o0o0

She stands and blocks the sunlight, creating a halo effect.

And just like that, Hanna looks up, seems dazed at her new appearance and she promises she can teach Hanna to be equally unforgettable.

Hanna takes the bait.

0o0o0o0

Hanna proves to be a quick study, drops weight and finally she's the blank slate needed.

0o0o0o0

It's easy to convince Hanna to skip a haircut, and later she produces a curling iron and teaches her how to make loose soft curls.

The hair colourist is patient while they discuss new colours, because Hanna's hair is pretty – just not quite right, and so she leaves the salon with subtly blonder hair than before. The plan is coming along well, and Hanna is yet to argue. They're getting along beautifully and she thinks they'll make good co-rulers.

Next is the soft kiss of a makeup brush over eyelids, lips, cheeks. A sharp mascara wand sweeps eyelashes longer, harshly pointed eye pencils make blue eyes the standout feature.

She steps back, swings Hanna's chair to face the mirror and is grateful to see the sparkle in her eyes is of happiness, not tears.

0o0o0o0

And finally it's clothes. Clothes and shoes and accessories, they buy them all. Hanna is unsure at first, but again she's quick to learn and soon avoids the colours and styles that don't flatter her.

So now there's two newly pretty girls in Rosewood, and they both want to rule the school. Alison is gone, _gone_ for good it seems, and someone needs to fill the space.

(She convinces herself she isn't being heartless, just pragmatic)

0o0o0o0

They agree to reveal themselves on Monday. And so she brings a dress Alison once had, coaxes Hanna to try it on and feels a glow of triumph when it slips easily on. It fits well and she steps back, squints her eyes and her eyelashes interlace.

From this perspective she almost can't tell if the girl before her is Alison or Hanna. The blonde hair, the blue eyes, the slim frame draped in a trendy dress – Hanna becomes Alison. It matters less that she could not be friends with Alison, because now she has her own version of Alison.

She leaves later that night, giddiness sparkling like champagne through her veins, and prepares for Monday.

0o0o0o0

Hanna is unsure in the car on Monday morning, and her hands tremble. Looking at her, it's easy to read her thoughts. _Mistake, imposter, poseur, untrendy_ are the main worries.

And so they strut down the halls on their four-inch heels and she slips her hand into Hanna's, because she's done all this and soon she'll do even more – only the _more_ won't be good, kind things. They will be twisted and warped and morally askew, so this is a good thing she can do, comfort her friend through her anxiety. Hanna doesn't know it yet, no-one does, but this promises to be an incredible year.

(This time as she passes down the hall, everyone stops to look, and it's beyond satisfying)


End file.
